So folks,I am back. Sorry for taking this long to come back but like my publicist said, I have been indisposed (typhoid/malaria tinz and all that shiit). I'm currently working on the update and it will be ready shortly. Thanks for your (Im)patience.

"Where did you get that word from?", he laughingly asked. "That's one thing I like about you, you are so intelligent," he said further, and grinned massively. This time I was too distracted to notice this gargantuan specimen of teeth. Distracted by the stirring in my loins.

What on earth was wrong with me?? Confused, I looked him squarely in the face. It was then the sordid truth hit me; that I had an Oedipus Complex. i.e I am attracted to intelligent, much older men. The Honourable was very intelligent and almost twenty years older than I am.

With a sinking heart, I realised that accepting Honourable's date had been a big, big mistake.When you are attracted to a person, if you don't want to fall into sin then for God's sake never accept to be alone in a room with that person because your defenses will be weaker and can more easily be compromised. I was attracted to the Honourable and my God did that freak me out!

The object of my musings interrupted my thoughts with, "take your bra off first then I'll show you how I tame unruly boo/bs". A leer was clearly etched on his face. He went further. " I know your boo/bs want my touch. See how they have been beckoning to me". Involuntarily, I looked down and cringed inwardly. Of a truth, my bosoms were projected outwards like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Blast this implicating koste bra.

So he thought I had made my b/oobs deliberately provocative? Would it profit me at this point to attempt to explain to this lust fevered man the technicalities of that female undergarment called 'brassiere'?

Probably not.

Procrastination. See where it had led me to. I had wasted time in buying a new set of lingerie and ended up wearing the wrong bra on the wrong date. With the way the man was staring at my chest, I knew something drastic would have to be done otherwise my hapless bosoms would find themselves at the receiving end of some seriously amorous mauling.

What to do, what to do!! My mind went into UNILAG sharp girl mode and began to race frantically, but I came up short. I had NO idea what I was going to do in this situation.

Lord, I commit my boo\bs into Your able hands, prayed I , and mentally slapped myself.

While I was mentally beating myself up, one of the Honourable's hands had somehow found its way to my inner thigh. Reflexively, I slapped the offending hand away. To my unending horror, this only seemed to excite my date more. His hand, quicker than the speed of light had found its way underneath my pretty, spotted brown shirt. My soft, delicate hand followed the hard, wayfaring hand with its long and meaty fingers on its amourous path, caught up with just as it was about to enfold one jutting bosom, wrestled with it and dragged it out of my shirt.

Honourable laughed long and he laughed hard.

"Baby girl, do you realise how silly this is?", he asked after laughing to his fill. He laughed again and clapped his hands like a woman who had just been privy to particularly scandalous gist. "You know, and I know, that we both know that we want to taste and enjoy each other", he said, gazing lustfully at me. Those were his exact words. They have stuck fast in my memory because of the sheer passion that accompanied the words.

My inner vixen smiled and licked her lips.

Her outer, more timid and inhibited version simply swallowed hard and squeaked "What is it with you men and big breassts sef??"

I was simply trying to buy time while I calmed myself down, because to my chagrin, adrenaline was coursing through my veins on overdrive. I could feel warmth in my joints, especially my elbow joints. Warning signs.

Luckily for me, he took the bait and launched into a brief lecture on how big, succulent bosoms can enhance intimacy. Big bosoms gingered a man to put in all his best when it came down to doing the dirty. Of course this is the sanitised version of the lecture. The original version is much more risque and who knows which young and impressionable mind is reading this.

Unfortunately, while he talked, his own words seemed to excite him. I, on my own part,was trying in vain to block out his words. They were permeating through my shaky defences.

When he stopped talking, I held my breath, wondering what his next moves would be.

"Baby, I want you to feel something", he said quietly.

My already madly beating heart increased pace even further.

Be still, thou treacherous heart. . .

I wondered absently how it was possible for me to still be alive with my heart beating so frantically. At the rate it was drumming, I would soon clutch my chest and drop dead from a heart attack.

I wondered what he wanted me to feel.

It better not be his heart o, I thought. I won't fall for that "feel my heart; its beating for you" bullshit that boys use all the time to decieve gullible girls.

However, the Honourable is not a boy, neither am I a gullible girl . . .

"Feel it", he repeated and reached for my hands where they lay defensively folded on my thighs. He gently pried my right hand and guided it down. To his upper inner thigh.

I wasn't sure at first what I was feeling. . . What my hands were feeling was so unbelievably HUGE . . .

Folks, you remember that myth about the correlation of the size of a man's tool with the size and length of his fingers?

So folks, I'm back (again). At the risk of sounding like an hypochondriac, I just had a nasty bout of godawful flu. Its been years since I had one of this severity so it debilitated me. Add the lack of time to the combo and you have a case of old fashioned writer's block.

However tonight, I am lying down in total darkness, the only light in my room is the light from my phone. The world has slowed down and is snoozing deeply. The cool breeze is caressing my bare back. Outside, I hear the crickets chirping, frogs croaking . . .(Is there a pond somewhere? )

I am listening to the sound of my brain waves and it has a calming effect on my nerves. Finally, I have found

Equilibrium.

Now my mind can fold in on itself and travel back across time and space to that tiny little roadside hamlet that I dwelt in years ago. . .

It is called The Place of Rest, but I didn't find rest there. I found inner strength, courage, loneliness and of course. . . unending mischief!! AHOO!!!!!

"The womanliness is very unique. It is designed to fit each and every tool. It will dilate for a fat one, contract to meet a thin one, retire before a long one and close up for a short one."

The words, written in clear black and white print danced crazily before my mental eyes. I had read these words many years back in my undergrad days in UNILAG. I had skimmed through this article on the female genittalia and quickly tossed the magazine aside. I didn't appreciate my most intimate reproductive organ dissected and dymystefied in so cold and crude a manner, so in a prim and proper huff, I consigned the article into the dustbin of my memory.

Or so I thought.

It seemed it had gone into the recycle bin instead. Ever been in a situation where stuff you thought you had completely forgotten had just simply popped up from nowhere??

Yep, that's what happened to me in Rm21 as I held . . . O lawd. . .as I held on to an astounding evidence of the reality of a vulgar myth.

Despite the near freezing temperature in the room, I broke out in hot sweat.

"Baby, run your hand over it. Feel what you are missing by playing hard to get," cooed that wicked wicked man in my ears.

Like a zombie, I ran my hand down the length of this massive organ.

Wow, I thought cynically, another part of him that is bigger than his teeth.

The organ just went on and on. And on

Another image flashed before my mind's eye. A subconscious image I thought I had buried long ago. I was ten years old walking on a dusty street when I chanced upon a horse tethered to the side to a tree. I would have kept on walking had I not seen the horse's organ emerging from beneath its belly. Astounded, I stopped and stared.

I stood rooted to the spot watching this incredible sight for what must have been hours (in my child's mind) until a mortified adult had chased me away.

Before I could stop myself and in a thoroughly flustered mess I exclaimed "O honourable, you old horse, you!"

There, it was out. I had called the man a horse. His teeth, and now THIS informed my choice of adjective(or is it noun??).

I was fascinated. This thing I was feeling seemed to throb like some sort of alien life form separate from the rest of him. It felt hot and impossibly hard beneath the wine coloured ankara material of his trousers. Unbidden, images began to form in my head.

Goodness me, when did my heart become such a cesspit? I thought suddenly. With superhuman effort, I jerked my hand away from this instrument of unexplored sinful delights and quickly jumped away from the bed. I moved away and stood by the potted plant in the corner.

My heart was pounding harder than ever. I was so weak, God so weak. Any minute longer massaging that massive tool and . . . well. . .

Amused, my tempter smiled up at me. I averted my eyes and said "I'm not finding this funny". To my utter chagrin, my voice came out in an unsteady squeak.

Honourable smiled some more.

Blushing furiously (if blushes could show on negro skin, my face would have been hued a bright crimson),I cleared my throat and spoke up again.

"Okay, so its big. Big deal. Is that what defines you as a man? " I was trying to make conversation while I made frantic efforts to gather my scattered thoughts which had gleefully gone down a thousand lewd paths.

"No, it isn't, but it is every woman's dream to be ridden by a stud," he stated matter-of-factly

For the sake of emphasis, let me reiterate that this conversation has been thoroughly censored by Yours Truly. The uncut version will gurantee the hasty transfer of this thread to the sexuality section of NL, BELIEVE ME.

When he said this, he had his eyes trained on my 'unruly' bosoms. Self consciously,I folded my arms over them. This was a bit of a challenge considering their trajectory, but I still did anyway.

I moved away from where I stood and turned to face the television. The high school musical was still showing. As I stared blankly at the screen, two characters came together and started kissing passionately.

Why is there so much sexx in today's media? Here I was trying my possible best not to rip my garments off and show this man the stuff por.n movies are made of, and this nasty movie was debauching my mind and further weakening my resolve!

I hastily turned away from the screen and caught Honourable still staring at me.

Flustered, I ignored him and looked away. I was so tempted. So so tempted.

". . .and lead me not into temptation. And lead me up the path of righteousness. . ." I mentally gibbered. I had no one to blame but myself. I was blinded by my greed and against my better judgement accepted to go on dates with a married man.

Now I was stuck here, teteering close to the edge. Now folks, I know sin is sin, but I would rather fall with a single man than with a married one.

What to do, what to do!! I licked my lips again. They felt very dry. It seemed I had unconsciously licked away all my meticulously applied lipstick and now my lips felt brittle and dry, no thanks to the air conditioner which was turned on at full blast.

"Baby come and lie down on me", my date spoke up suddenly. "Lie down on my back, I want to see how much you weigh."

I was listening to the sound of my own heartbeat. It seemed impossibly loud to my ears. My old course mate in school who had always nagged me to join the man'o war group on campus so that I'd be jogging every morning, would be very proud of me if she could hear my heartbeat right now; here I was having a thorough cardio workout, and I didn't have to lift a single muscle.

"You want me to come and lie on you??", I asked. I was trying, and woefully failing to ignore the warmth that had flared up in my loins when he had requested I come lie on him.

"Yes. Are you shy?," he asked, leering openly.

"Hell no I am not shy," I retorted, rolling my head sisi style. "Do you think you can carry me?" I ventured further, "I'm quite heavy, you know. Besides, I know the real reason why you want me to lie on you."

He flashed his massive pearlies but I was too distracted to be impressed by them. There was serious shiit about to go down and such things as gargantuan teeth took the backburner.

"O yeah? You think so?"

"I KNOW so!"

"Okay, smart girl, what then?"

"Bah! Are you really asking??"

"Don't be coy, baby. Out with it." He gave me a big, teeth flavoured grin.

"You just want to feel my boobs on your back," I said flatly.

He chuckled. "In as much as I would love that, no, I that is not why I asked you."

I looked at him askance. When he saw my disbelieving expression, he burst out laughing again.

Jeezus, this man was having quite a jolly good time at my expense. This all seemed like a game to him. Well, perhaps it was. He wanted to see how long I could hold back before he came in for the kill. It reminded me of a home documentary I once watched where a cat caught a rat and played with the frantic, unfortunate creature for hours on end until it got bored and tore its head off and ate it.

Well, perhaps I wanted to have my head torn off. Perhaps I was unconsciously playing along. Perhaps deep down, I wanted to be 'eaten'.We all have a dark, perverse side to us, you know. Majority of us have not explored it, because if we do, the consequenses could be either 'interesting', or disastrous, depending on God's grace upon our lives. That is the ancient battle described in Gal 5: 16-17.

Miffed, I turned away from him and faced the curtained window. Absently, I reached up and parted the curtains. What I saw made me gasp loudly. To my shock, the sky had gone a deep shade of grey. It was almost nightfall. How long had I been in here? ? I whirled round and faced my date.

". . .(His name),how long have we been here?" I asked, trying to quell my rising panic. Nightfall, I thought, no, not nightfall. There is this thing about night that makes me so relaxed and. . .uninhibited. I didn't want to let my guard down with this man because if I did, I would be lost. . .

"Why do you ask? Am I boring you?" he asked, lazily reclining on the big bed.

I would not lie, when I started reading this, what I first thought was, you use too many 'big words' or vocabulary than needed to pass your message . I thought you were trying to impress with 'em. .

That kinda clouded the fact of how great a writer you are and how greatly I enjoyed your write up.

FF a couple more posts down the thread, and I'm fully engrossed in your chronicles!

Seriously sis, you is one badass writer.

There is nothing I'd say now that you haven't heard or been told already, but I gotta say you more than deserve every accolade and plaudit coming your way. Heck, I even think you are being under-eulogized!